Brothers of Fate
by ii-Phoenix-ii
Summary: On the run from the Empire, Murtagh ends up in a small village called Carvahall.
1. Strangers in Carvahall

**Chapter 1: Strangers in Carvahall**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle

_**Yay! Inheritance Cycle story #2**_

* * *

Murtagh tied the ropes and gave his faithful companion a gentle pat. He slipped inside the tavern. It was old, dusty, and most importantly, lacking in patrons. Just the way he liked it. He sat in one of the creaky chairs, keeping an eye on the two men sitting in the far right corner of the room.

The barman came over. Murtagh wondered what happened to him, the bottom half of his face was short and mashed. Most likely a childhood accident he figured. "What can I get for you?"

"Some mead," Murtagh said quietly.

The man served him the drink and left him alone. For that Murtagh was grateful. He was always attacked with a barrage of questions when he went to a small town such as this one. _Who knows, I might just stay here for a few months_. It was so small and isolated, with no signs whatsoever of the King's soldiers.

It had been a few months since he had fled from the Empire, constantly on the move, always checking over his shoulder. He felt tired now. This seemed just the place for him to rest up for a while. Then he could move on like he always did. He finished his drink in peace and quiet. The two patrons finished and were chatting with the barman.

This seemed to be one of those closely knit communities where everyone knew everyone and were fiercely loyal to one another. The more he thought about it, the more the idea of staying here appealed to him. Finally, after thinking about it for a couple of more minutes, he decided he would stay here.

In this tiny, insignificant village called Carvahall.

The barman came over once more, "Some more mead?"

"No, I was wondering...is there an inn here? I think I may stay for some time."

"What's your name?"

"Murtagh," he cursed himself for a moment, he should have used an alias. But then again, this village was highly unlikely to attract the King's attention. So hopefully this wouldn't be a problem.

"The name's Morn. Me and my wife own this tavern." He nodded around. "This village isn't very big or special, so there's nothing but farms, this tavern, and a few other shops you'll find anywhere, even the middle of nowhere."

Murtagh frowned.

"But, my wife had an accident a couple of days ago. You seem like a big strong lad, if you can help around, I'll let you have the room in the back and free meals. But only till my wife gets better."

"I have a horse as well. Is there anywhere for him to stay?"

"There's an empty shed behind, you can keep him there."

"Then I accept."

"Great," Morn slapped him on the back. "Go settle in. You can start tomorrow."

* * *

**The Next Morning**

Murtagh woke up and for the first few seconds, he was confused. The previous day's memories came back and he sat up. The room was small and grey. There was one cot, an old table, and a small, plain closet in the corner with a broken door. He left his sword and bow and arrow under the bed before going outside.

First he made sure Tornac was okay. The shed was very, very old, had rats, and was too small. But it wasn't _terrible_. It was better than staying outside, at least Tornac had a roof over his head now.

He grabbed a bucket before going to the hand pump and filling it with water. He went into the washroom and quickly cleaned himself up, taking a few seconds to get used to the cold temperature of the water.

Getting dressed he went to his room to see Morn standing in the doorway. He cleared his throat causing the man to turn around. The confusion in his eyes cleared and he smiled. "Up and ready to work, I like you already."

"What do you need me to do?"

"Come," he led them to the room stocked with mead, ale, and beer.

The place was as big as the main serving room of the tavern and filled with barrels. It was quite impressive for a village this small.

"I need you to separate the ale, beer, and mead. I want all the ale on the left, the mead in the middle, and the beer on the right. Each barrel is marked with 'A,' 'B,' or 'M.' I'll show you which one is which."

He looked proud. Murtagh figured it had to do with the little knowledge of the runes he had.

"You'll work here in the morning, take the afternoon off, and work out front in the evening. Tara will leave a tray of food in you room, you can take a break when you need and eat. It's a two-week job. And you can start now."

Murtagh nodded and began.

* * *

**A Couple of Days Later**

Murtagh was leaning against the counter-top, wiping a mug. He had established a smooth routine for each day. Wake up, check on Tornac, and get ready before reorganizing the cellar. He usually took a break to eat before working for another hour. His favorite time was the afternoon. He would feed Tornac, bring his own lunch, and ride his horse around outskirts of the village. Then he'd sit out in the tree shade and eat in peace.

By the evening he would help Morn serve the customers and clean the tables. Murtagh heard loud laughter as someone, two boys he guessed, entered. Having become familiar with the regulars, he knew it was someone else. "Is Morn here?"

Turning around, he found himself faced with a pair of boys or, he realized, one boy and one man. The taller one was older and had a mature air about him. The younger one with blonde hair and a pair of curious brown eyes, he was not 16 but close. "Morn's not here. He'll be back soon. Can I help you?"

"No, we'd like to talk to him. When will he be back?" The taller one asked.

"Two, maybe three hours."

They exchanged glances, having a silent conversation. Murtagh observed them before he spoke. "The meat will start to go bad by the time Morn gets here. Then he will not want to trade. I can get Tara if would like."

"How did you know?" The younger one asked with wide eyes.

"Your hands, I can tell from the roughness that you hunt. And your bag is heavy, a couple of rabbits?"

He nodded dumbly. "Right. So, um, are you a hunter too?"

"When I need to be."

"I'm Roran Garrowsson," the older one introduced himself with a smile, "and this is my cousin, Eragon."

"Murtagh," he nodded. "Would you like me to get Tara now?"

"Yes, thank you," Roran said and watched Murtagh disappear. He turned to his cousin, who was staring at his hands.

"He seems intelligent," Eragon looked up. "I like him."

Roran rolled his eyes. "That because he's a hunter. You're just happy to find someone to talk to about tracking game and all that."

"Do think he'll talk to me?"

Murtagh reappeared with Tara. "Roran, Eragon, it's nice to see you two again. How are you?"

"We've been well. How is your back?" Roran asked.

"It still pains me, but not too bad as long as I don't strain myself. I take it you're here to trade?"

"Yes ma'am," Eragon smiled. "It was a very good day. I have three rabbits left."

"Haven't had rabbit stew in a while," Tara murmured. "I'll give you half a barrel of mead. How about it?"

"Sounds like a deal," Roran nodded.

"Murtagh?" Tara turned to him, he nodded and disappeared through the back door again.

"Who is he?" Eragon asked as soon as the man in question was gone.

"Curious as always I see," she laughed. "As for your question, Murtagh came here a few days ago. He was looking for work and Morn hired him for two weeks. He's a nice young man. Does his work, doesn't complain, and is very secretive. We don't know much about him other than his name, age, and that he likes to move around."

"How old is he?"

"A year older than you, he's 18."

Murtagh came back and passed the barrel to Roran. "Thank you. Well, we should get home now."

"Take care," Eragon said before he and his cousin left.

Murtagh couldn't shake the feeling he'd seen the boy before.

* * *

**Three Days Later**

"That's a nice horse. What's his name?"

Murtagh sighed silently. He had known he was being followed and by who. He had hoped the boy would have enough courtesy to not interrupt him during lunch. Apparently not. "His name is Tornac."

"Can, can I touch him?"

"...Sure, but let him smell you first. If he likes you, great, if not, he'll kick you and break your ribs."

He hesitated at first, but Eragon was not one to back down easy. He let Tornac sniff him, and approve, before he petted the horse. "A war horse right?"

"Yes."

"Where did you get him? How much was he? How long have you had him?"

"..."

"Sorry, didn't mean to pry," he blushed.

"Why are you here?" Murtagh asked finally.

Eragon lost his shyness and sat down next to him. "I just wanted to talk to someone, another hunter. The others dismiss me as a kid even though I catch more game than they do...usually."

_Might as well make the most of it._ _I have a feeling he won't leave anytime soon and will follow me if I leave._ Reluctantly he began to talk. Within minutes his attitude changed and he actually began to enjoy himself. It wasn't till Tornac began to fidget Murtagh realized it was getting late.

"Sorry, I forgot you had work," Eragon stood up.

"It's fine. I enjoyed our discussion," Murtagh went and climbed his horse. "I'll see you around."

* * *

**A Week Later**

Eragon and Roran entered the Seven Sheaves, laughing and chatting. They sat down in their usual place at the far left of the counter. Murtagh came to serve them. They greeted him and he nodded to them. With the rest of the patrons already taken care of, he talked with the cousins for a bit.

"Out of curiosity, I must ask, do you know the origin of your name?"

Eragon shook his head, "No, only that my mother chose it."

"Do _you_?" Roran raised an eyebrow.

"As it happens, yes."

"What does it mean?" Eragon asked eagerly.

"I don't know the meaning, but," Murtagh's lips twitched into a smile, thinking about the boy's reaction, "I do know that Eragon was the name of an elf. And not just any elf, the first Dragon Rider."

Eragon gaped, "I'm named after a Dragon Rider?"

Roran groaned, "Brilliant, I'm not going to hear the end of it for weeks to come."

Their conversation was interrupted by a loud crash.

The place fell silent and everyone looked up. A drunken man stood above the shattered glass and over-turned table. He was holding a dagger to his companion. The other man backed away in fear. "Alton, what are you doing?"

The man with the knife, Alton, yelled. "Shut up! Just shudd up. Ya stupid bastard. It was an accident. What're ye going ta do? Turn me in. I'm ya brotha!"

Roran slowly walked towards him. "Okay, just take it easy, and put the knife down."

Murtagh knew this wasn't going to end well. Alton turned on Roran. "Stay outta this! Iz our family business."

"Not when you start making it public."

"Why don't ya shudd up an chase that whore of yours!"

Eragon was able to stop his cousin before he got his hands around the man's neck and snapped it. Murtagh had enough and walked towards the drunken man, ignoring the idiotic knife waving. "Get out."

"Fuck you!"

Murtagh's hand shot out and caught his wrist in a tight grip and twisted it behind his back, the dagger fell. "Now, are you going to go quietly or do I have to throw you out?"

Alton struggled and cursed loudly but couldn't break free. Morn lost his patience, "Throw him out!"

"Let me go," Roran told his cousin. Eragon retracted his arms and he walked to the door. Roran smiled cheerfully, "Here, let me get the door for you."

Murtagh dragged Alton and pushed him out, the man stumbled and fell. Albem and Bardrick went out and yanked him to his feet. "We'll take him and see to it he gets punished."

His brother followed them quietly after murmuring a thank you to Murtagh and Roran. The duo turned around. Eragon grinned, "That was brilliant!"

Then the tavern broke into cheers.

* * *

Murtagh was enjoying the sun when Eragon came, a little skip in his step. It had become a regular occurrence for them to meet and talk during the afternoon. Though it had to be cut short since Roran left which meant more work between Eragon and his uncle.

"You're in a good mood today."

"It's beautiful day," Eragon shrugged. Murtagh rolled his eyes. Really, the boy was so naïve. And a terrible liar as well. Did he really think he could fool Murtagh? "I was wondering, since you knew the origin of my name...do you know anything about dragons?"

Being the son of a Dragon Rider and raised to understand the power of knowledge of course he knew. But why did Eragon want to know? Granted he'd heard of the boy's enthusiasm for tales, but they had a storyteller didn't they? Eragon usually wanted to talk about archery and tracking game.

"Why not ask the old man?"

"He's left town for business before you came," Eragon shrugged. "So, what do you know of dragons?"

After thinking for a few minutes, he replied, "They are intelligent, strong, and can grow very big."

_But I already know that. _Eragon tried to keep the frown from his face. "Any idea how long it takes before they're as big as a house?"

"Two maybe three seasons time?"

Eragon paled. Murtagh knew something was definitely up. "Are you well?"

"Y-yeah, fine, just..." He looked like wanted to say something but stopped at the last second. "Nevermind."

* * *

Panic.

That was all he felt. _Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!_ What had he been thinking? That he could stay here and pretend Galbatorix could not find him? He was already packed since it was his last day working at the tavern.

He had worked his last shift up front when two strangers arrived. Thankfully Morn went to serve them, saving Murtagh from coming face-to-face with the King's servants. There was a knock at the door. He froze, "Yes?"

Morn came in, and he didn't looked frightened, Murtagh took a small comfort in that fact. "I wanted to ask a favor of you."

"What is it?" What could he want?

"There were some strange men here and..."

Murtagh tried to keep his emotions in check, "And?"

"You're friends with Eragon, yes?"

The sudden change in topic threw him off. "I guess we are."

He nodded, "Could perhaps go to his farm and pass along a message?"

"What kind of message?" Murtagh began to slowly calm down as it became apparent those men weren't looking for him.

Otherwise his boss would have shown some inclination of the fact._ Eragon's house is out of the village, I can pass the message, and leave through the Spine afterwards._ It was the one place Galbatorix's servants wouldn't follow. And he could ask Eragon for directions before leaving.

Now with a plan in mind, Murtagh answered calmly. "Sure, what kind of message?"

"Tell him to get rid of the stone."

Murtagh blinked, confused, "Okay."

After Morn left he grabbed his bearings and rode Tornac to Eragon's farm. He was nearing the edge of the village when he saw two hunch backed figures and the frozen, dazed looking stature of Eragon.

Murtagh knew immediately what they were. And everything came together in his head.

He pulled out his bow and arrow and shot them both. With the element of surprise, he was able to kill them. They screeched horribly and began to rot. Eragon stared in horror and fascination. Murtagh offered him a hand, "Let's go before anyone finds us."

* * *

"Who are you? Eragon, what's going on?" Garrow asked when a stranger came in behind his nephew.

"Why did you kill them?"

"Where is it?" Murtagh ignored their questions.

"What are you—hey!" Eragon protested when Murtagh grabbed his wrist and ripped the glove off.

"What is that?" Garrow frowned at the silver oval.

"The gedwëy ignasia, it's the mark of a Dragon Rider."

* * *

_**Please Review~ **_


	2. Brothers

**Chapter 2: Brothers**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle

**Previously**: Murtagh comes to Carvahall. He becomes friends with Eragon. He finds out Eragon's a Dragon Rider and kills two of Galbatorix's servants.

* * *

"A Dragon Rider?" Garrow asked, stunned.

"Those strangers that you saw were the King's assassins, most foulsome beasts known as the Ra'zac. Their breath has the power to paralyze humans. In terms of physical prowess they exceed us. And we humans are their favorite snacks."

Garrow and Eragon were horrified.

"Morn told me they were asking about a stone and I assumed the dragon hatched for you."

Garrow cursed and turned to his nephew, "You should never have taken the cursed thing!"

"I-I didn't know it was an egg..."

Garrow took a calming breath. "No matter, what is done is done. We should be grateful it's over now."

Murtagh scoffed, "Not likely. With his favorite servants dead, he'll send someone to investigate. Besides, Eragon is a Rider now. Soon the dragon will grow too large and attract attention. If Galbatorix finds out, he will force Eragon to his side."

"But I don't want to join him. I hate the Empire!"

"Then he'll kill you. You're either with him or against him. You can stay neutral for now, but when the dragon—"

"Saphira," Eragon snapped, annoyed at having her be called 'dragon.'

"When Saphira grows and can't hide from the villagers, you'll have no choice but to move somewhere to accommodate her size."

Garrow wanted to tell his nephew to forget about Saphira. But he'd seen the fire and the passion in Eragon's eyes. He knew it would be a lost cause. "What now?"

"Now? Now Eragon's only hope is the Varden."

"The Varden?" Garrow frowned. "I've heard rumors about them, I thought they were but a group of rebels making trouble for the Empire."

"Trouble? Try raids, spying, sabotage, and assassinations. The Varden are the ones who stole Saphira's egg from Galbatorix. He has kept it a secret, not wanting people to get any ideas should they realize the size of the Empire's resistance."

They were quiet for a few minutes. Eragon broke the silence, "I'll leave."

"No!" Garrow jumped up. "You don't have to abandon your home. We still have time."

"The King will send his men soon. I have days at most," Eragon argued.

His uncle deflated. "Then will you at least stay the night?"

"Yes uncle," Eragon whispered softly.

With that settled, Garrow went to start dinner while Eragon showed Murtagh to Roran's room. Murtagh sat on the bed, elbows resting on his knees and face in his hands. _How did things get so bad? _Why hadn't he noticed earlier? Happiness had once against given him the slip.

But he couldn't just leave Eragon to fend for himself. The boy was just that, a boy. If Galbatorix got his hands on him... Murtagh shivered. No, he couldn't let it happen. It would be the end of everything. He had to make sure Eragon got to the Varden, the lesser of the two evils as far as he was concerned.

Another thought occurred to him. _How am I even going to find the Varden?_

He sighed. Why couldn't Fate leave him well enough alone? Why didn't she go pick on someone else? Or was it too much fun to make him miserable? He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. It was getting too complicated. His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Eragon told him dinner was ready.

Murtagh cringed. He didn't want to go. He would much rather eat alone than sit there in the uncomfortable silence that was sure to be present. Forcing himself to get up, he left the room and joined his hosts at the table. Like he had predicted, it was unbearably awkward.

Finally, Garrow cleared his throat. "I don't even know the name of the man who saved my nephew's life."

"It's Murtagh."

"Thank you Murtagh," Garrow looked at him. He arched an eyebrow. It was the first time he had taken a good look at him. Earlier, the panic was clouding his mind but now...

"Uncle?" Eragon asked, noticing Garrow's scrutiny making their guest fidget.

"What's your mother's name?"

Murtagh and Eragon were taken back. Garrow had a strange feeling. Maybe he was wrong but there was no harm in asking. Murtagh frowned. "Why do you want to know?"

"Simple curiosity."

It was obviously not a good enough reason because Murtagh didn't reply. Eragon knew his uncle wasn't one to stick his nose where it didn't belong. "What's wrong?"

Garrow turned to his nephew and answered hesitantly, "He shares an uncanny resemblance to your father."

That got their attention.

"I, my, _what_?"

"I've only seen the man your mother left with once. But..." He turned to Murtagh's pale face. "The resemblance is there. Not just his...but Selena's as well. Her eyes."

"My mother?" Murtagh and Eragon said simultaneously, then looked at each other in shock.

"Yes, it makes sense now," Garrow said, mostly to himself. "My sister had a very complex pregnancy. She lost far too much blood, but she was anxious to return. She kept saying something about 'going back for him.' Marian and I didn't understand what she meant. It's obvious she was talking about her other son, _you_." He looked to a stark white Murtagh.

They sat quietly, in shock at their discovery.

"...My mother came from a small village. She died when I was three."

Carvahall was small, and Eragon was 15 and Murtagh was 18. They were broken out of their stupor when they heard Tornac's cries. Reminder of their situation came crashing down. Murtagh was out the chair and through the door before Eragon and Garrow came to.

Eragon got up to follow but Murtagh came back. "What happened?"

"Nothing, he was sleeping and the wind knocked over a bucket, scared him."

Garrow stood up, "It's late now. We should retire for the night."

* * *

**The Next Morning**

Eragon and Murtagh walked through the Spine, the former mentally telling Saphira he was bringing company. After 10 minutes of silence, Murtagh spoke, "Ask away."

"What?"

"I've known you long enough to know you're bursting with questions right now." He said and Eragon blushed. "So, tell me what you want to know."

"Who's...what's our father like?" He knew about his mother from his uncle but his father was another matter.

Murtagh's face twisted in pain and anger. Eragon looked away, "Sorry, nevermind."

His brother inhaled and exhaled slowly. "No, it's fine. You...you have a right to know. Our father," he said 'father' in disgust, "was a Dragon Rider."

Eragon perked up.

"He was the first and last of the Forsworn, and Galbatorix's most loyal servant."

The blood drained out of Eragon's face.

"He was an animal. Cruel, uncaring, and full of hate and pain. He was never happy, and always kept my mother from me."

Eragon stopped walking, shoulders slumped. "I...I'm so sorry. It's all my fault. If it weren't for me, mother would have taken you away from our father. Your life could have been so much better but I ruined all that."

Murtagh sighed. He had the similar thoughts most of the previous night. But seeing and hearing Eragon say with so much pain and self-loathing felt so _wrong_. "It was out of your control. Like Garrow said, what's done is done."

Eragon wiped his tears, looking at his brother with a smile. "Don't you mean 'Uncle Garrow?' Wait till Roran finds out we're all related!"

"He can't," Murtagh said sharply.

Eragon was taken back. "Why not? He's family."

"It'll only put him in danger." Looking at his little brother's confused expression, he began to explain. "The Empire will hunt us for going against the King. And the Varden, until it's proved we don't side with the King, will want to do the same because of our father. It is for the best that this is kept a secret."

Eragon nodded in understanding and they continued.

* * *

Murtagh watched in awe as the blue dragon greeted Eragon. She was bigger than him, her blue scales shone like polished jewels. _Saphira is indeed a fitting name_. Eragon turned to him. "Murtagh, meet Saphira. Saphira, my brother Murtagh."

He felt a rush of joy that Eragon already considered him a brother, despite having Roran. Saphira turned her large blue eyes on him. He lowered his mental defense just enough for her to project to him. _"Hello, Eragon's nest-mate."_

He bowed his head politely, knowing how intelligent dragons were and how foolish it would be to offend one. "An honor to meet you."

She turned to talk to her Rider, but let him listen_. "I like him."_ She turned back to him. _"Thank you for saving Eragon's life."_

Murtagh smiled, "That's what brothers are for."

Eragon grinned happily. "You wanted to see her, right? What now?"

Murtagh observed the blue dragon, standing to her full height looking proud and majestic. "We need to go buy some supplies before we leave. For example, you need a saddle if you want to fly on Saphira."

"I do?"

"If you don't want your legs stripped as easily as scaling a fish then yes, you do." Murtagh turned to Saphira. "With your permission, I'd like to measure you for the saddle."

She dipped her head and he got to work.

* * *

With the money he got from Murtagh, Eragon went to Gedric to buy at least three ox hides, as instructed by his brother while he worked on designing the saddle. "Hello, Gedric."

"Good morrow Eragon," the tall dark-haired man smiled. "What can I do for you today?"

"I need three ox hides."

Clearly that was not what he was expecting. Eragon quickly explained, telling him the story he and his brother had come up with. "I've decided to go with Murtagh to Therinsford. We'll need good saddles for the horses."

"You're going together? That's a good idea. Traveling alone is dangerous." Gedric then sold Eragon the hides and wished him luck.

He went back to the farm as fast as he could. He couldn't shake the feeling he was being followed. Once he was in the safety of this home he relaxed. He blamed the eerie feeling on paranoia.

Eragon followed Murtagh's instructions and helped him make the saddle. Murtagh told him his sword-master, whom he named his horse after, had taught him how to make a saddle for a horse. Saphira's would be an altered version of the one used for Tornac. They made sure the straps were extra long in order to accommodate for Saphira's growth.

They were done by late afternoon and took a couple of hours to rest up. After eating an early dinner, they gathered their supplies packed by Garrow. The three men plus one horse made their way into the Spine. Garrow let out a gasp when he saw Saphira. "What a beautiful creature she is!"

The female dragon bowed her head, not wanting to startle him by talking to him. Eragon and Murtagh let out relieved sighs when the saddle fit her. Garrow waited for his nephews to finish before speaking to them. "I will tell you, both of you, what I told Roran."

Eragon and Murtagh straightened up.

"First, let no one rule your mind or body. Take special care that your thoughts remain unferrated. One may be a free man and yet be bound tighter than a slave. Give men your ear but not your heart. Show respect for those who are in power, but don't follow them blindly. Judge with logic and reason, but comment not. Consider none you superior, whatever their rank or station in life. Treat all fairly or they will seek revenge. Be careful with your money. Hold fast to your beliefs and others will listen."

He paused and his eyes softened. "On the affairs of love...my only advise is to be honest. That's your most powerful tool to unlock a heart or gain forgiveness. That is all I have to say."

"Thank you for your wise words," Murtagh gave him a small smile.

Eragon's eyes teared up, he gave his uncle a fierce hug. "I'll miss you greatly, uncle. Thank you for everything."

Garrow looked at Murtagh expectantly. "You're a part of the family too now."

Murtagh embraced him and whispered softly, "I'll take care of him, I promise."

After checking their provisions one last time, Murtagh and Eragon left.

* * *

**A Few Days Later at Night**

"Now that we have the necessary supplies and a horse for you, we can head for Tierm."

"Why are we going to Tierm?" Eragon asked finishing his dinner.

"On my way to Carvahall, I came through there. I heard many lords and ladies speaking of a woman who could create the most potent of love potions."

"What are we going to do with _love_ _potions_?" Eragon asked incredulously.

"Think brother, what kind of a woman has the power to create powerful potions."

_"A witch,"_ Saphira replied.

"You want to ask her to use magic in helping us locate the Varden?"

"Yes, I hope she will, I've heard she's very eccentric." Murtagh tossed a stick in the fire. "And speaking of, you should begin training in magic as soon as as possible."

"How? There's no one to teach me. Unless you can use magic."

"I have the knowledge but not the _spark _needed to use it. I can help you start at least. For stronger ones you should wait for an actual magic user to teach you."

"Can we start now?" Eragon asked enthusiastically.

"Sure," Murtagh smirked. "I should warn you, it's not as easy as you might think."

* * *

**Next Morning: Carvahall**

Brom made his way to Garrow's farm. He had arrived three days back and seen Eragon leave Gedric's. He followed his son until he was home. With Eragon safe and sound, he went back to his own place. He had received information from the Varden: Joed had spotted Murtagh.

Unfortunately the agent who had been tailing him had lost him. It seemed Murtagh was heading north, possibly towards Narda. Not wanting to take a chance when it came to his son's safety, he had left for where the Varden agent had lost Murtagh. Through some bad luck, he had been stuck there until a few days ago.

He knocked on the door. Garrow opened it a crack before opening the door all the way when he saw the old storyteller. "Brom? What brings you here?"

"Your nephew promised he would clean up my backyard in exchange for a small trinket from my travels." He spoke carefully, trying not to make it sound as if Eragon owed him anything.

"I'm sorry but Eragon is not here."

"Did he go to the village?"

"No, he left to find work somewhere bigger. Wanted to see the world, he's at that age, just like how Roran was."

Brom froze. Eragon was gone? "You let him go?"

"Of course, I wouldn't deny him a chance to go out and experience the real world. Just like Roran."

"But Roran's a man. Eragon's 15, isn't he? Not that it's any of my business but just doesn't seem like you." Brom said, trying to act uninterested.

"Yes well, he's with a family member. And _he _is a perfectly capable young man who can look out for Eragon. They'll be fine together." Garrow was starting to wonder why the storyteller was being so invasive.

"At least I'll finally get some peace and quiet," Brom said chuckling, realizing Garrow was beginning to get suspicious. "Take care."

* * *

Brom took a deep swig of his drink. _I have to find him. But how? Garrow is out of the question_. It would be far too suspicious for him to inquire about Eragon when they had no relations. _And who did he leave with? _As far as he knew, Garrow had no family but his son and nephew. _Maybe someone from Marian's side of the family?_

Morn came to refill his drink. "Brom, how's life treating you?"

"Very good, just enjoying the quiet. Heard Eragon's off on an adventure of his own. Who knows, when he gets back he'll be the one telling the tales instead of demanding to hear them." He purposefully left an opening for the tavern owner to start a discussion about his son.

Morn laughed, "That's our Eragon. He'll be a man when he comes back. Murtagh will be a good influence on him."

The mug nearly slipped from Brom's hands, "Murtagh?"

"A young man who was here while you were gone. Not surprising they went together."

"No?" Brom said weakly.

"Of course, they were good friends, practically brothers! They spent hours talking everyday."

"I see," Brom watched Morn go to serve another customer before shakily putting his mug down.

_Eragon left with Murtagh? Why did Murtagh come here?_ Last he remembered, Murtagh was a sweet child. But that was over a decade ago. Spending most of his life in Uru'baen could have changed him, for the worse.

Brom frowned, what he didn't understand was how Murtagh convinced Eragon to leave. _Then again with Eragon, all it would take are tales of adventure._ The big question was how he convinced Garrow. He even had Morn singing his praises.

Murtagh seemed to have the people of Carvahall wrapped around his finger. And Eragon was so naive. It was all too much like Brom's own situation with Morzan when they were children. _Could Morzon's son have found out Eragon's _my _son? Yes, that must be it! _

It was too strange that his rival's son came in and made friends with his son during his absence. There were far too many coincidences. Brom didn't believe in coincidences. _Murtagh's using him! He's going to trick Eragon into joining Galbatorix! _Brom panicked.

* * *

_**Please Review~ **_


End file.
